but you've got me hooked.
And I'm just waiting for us to destroy my heart
While I'm praying really hard that you'd join me in our mad dance in the rain where we'd feel the most alive and joy
Where you'd kiss me under the flahes of light
and whisper sweet nothings as the thunder strikes

I'm trying really hard, and praying
we wont end up breaking my heart.
Again.

she wants to be a warrior princess.
She'll live in a majestic humble castle at the edge of a bustling city, at the base of a sprawling mountain range and never-ending grasslands. She'll be the daughter of a king with a wonderful heart and a character as solid as steel, and a queen with magnificent sophistication and touch as gentle as a rose. She'll grow up in Courage and Love and Wisdom and Responsibility, and since the day she was born, given the mandate to serve the people and her land. She will grow up learning how to fight and ride like a man, to fear not her enemy but her pride. She will ride out everyday on her white horse across the wide fields and forests and to the lakes and farmlands with her long black hair trailing behind her and the wind kissing her sunlit face. She'll live and breathe the freedom and strength of a conviction far greater then she can ever imagine. She will dance by herself in the moonlight on her balcony of cold stone slabs under the vast sky with nothing else but her surroundings starring back at her. She will lead armies of men out on the fields against enemies who ride with greed and envy and her battle cry will screech through the air and her sword will slice through the wind and she'll take them down one by one. She will wear battle gear of leather and chain and line her eyes with war-paint. Her heart will long for a warrior prince and he will come and both will understand some things arn't meant to be.
It'll be a lonely life of a warrior. But there's nothing else she would exchange it for, to live and breathe that of a cause worth dying for.

I eloped from work that day with myself and we went to the beach.

We sat down on a patch of soft green grass and stared out
at the sand and the prints and the refuse.
And the sea and the waves and the foam.
And the sky and the clouds and the airplanes.
And the trees and the roots and the branches.

There was a little girl aged 60.
She was playing a game of catch-me with the waves.
She lightened my burden heart and put a smile across my face.
I looked up and saw bright lights dancing in front of me
the magic of life for me to see

Sitting on that green patch seemed all so familiar.

I'm attached to what i do.
Heck i'm fucking married to it.
And i'm protective of anything that comes within 5 m of my radius. So let me set this straight.
Stop fucking telling me you know what I do or what it is about. Cuz you don't. Like how I don't fucking think I know what you do. And I don't assume i do. And please stop telling me what I do. Cuz I know what I do, thank you very much. If your senseless lies and excuses don't forward either you or me, go see a shrink instead ok? Or how about Antony Robbins or Adam Khoo?

Jeez.
Quit it already.
The world isn't healthy, stop making it worse.
(See entry below)

The moment you say you know, you've killed yourself.

Today I saw her
That whom I've long shut out
Her angst and cynicism
Lashed out in a 'bout

I tried staying blind to it
pained by what I'll see
Naked to my heart
I saw all that is to be

Arms she cannot see
reach out to envelope her
the only comfort I can give
in hope to make things better

The gift that I have
in my heart and my voice
stays hidden cupped in my palms
the key to end all the noise.

So much I want to give
all that I can see
life you once gave to me
freedom is who you'll be

I love you
but i don't know what to do.

Consists of:

Garlic steak flavoured oatmeal

and

fried chicken wing flavoured sheesha

You just go up and down and round and round and enjoy the view and bitch about the pace and find you end up at the same spot time and time again.

Like a dejavu having its fun.




I really liked your face.
Again.

If a guy woke me up in the morning to that kind of breakfast served in bed, I'll wrap him under my duve and beat him to death.

Fantasy Breakfast-in-bed:
Peanut butter and cinamon and raisin toast in the shape of a heart with dribbles of honey on top
1 hard boil egg with Kikkoman Soy Sauce in a egg holder the figure of Prince Charles
Fried omelette with cheese, spring onions, onions, juicey bacon and sausage chunks, mushrooms and more cheese
1 Kenny Rogers Muffin
Apple Jacks with Daisy Hi-Lo Milk (and maybe a tiffany's ring hidden inside)
Freshly squeezed orange juice which isn't too sweet
Apple and Rose flavoured tea
1 big fat slice of papaya with freshly squeezed lime
All on matching mis-matched cutlery and crockery and a wooden tray
A little white vase of fragrant spring flowers
A little black card with white printed fonts which says "There's more to come..."

All served by some hot stud in boxers and smoke-smelling trousled hair. He'll watch me eat for a while, and then start to fight for the food from me. The tea would spill, food's gona end up all over our chins, the honey's gona drip all over our fingers and get 'em all sticky, and fork will fly to the far corner of the room, the flowers will get crushed and stuff down his boxers and I'll freak at the food and crockery in disarray. And then I'll scream at him for being out of his mind for cooking me breakfast and then stealing it from me and messing up and screwing up my entire muthafucking breakfast which looked so fucking good and now it's all over the fucking place and I bet the fucking kitchen is in a fucking mess and I'll have to clean it up later after washing the fucking sheets plus the duve is expensive and I'll have to send 'em to the laundry and it's all his muthafucking fault and if and I mean IF any of the plates break I'd fucking not talk to him for the rest of the year. And then I'll laugh sarcastically at the fucking spring flowers sticking out of his stupid boxers which I bet he hasn't washed for the past few days and I'm the one who's gona have to bloody wash them and I'd punch his nice hard warm chest, grab him by his strong-manly-cut jaw and bit his lip and knock him senseless with the most passionate kiss he's ever had.

That's definately gona be on my x'mas list this year.